The Raising (The Torch Keeper Book 3)

  Unless—

  “I can’t hold on much longer,” Cassius groans. Falling debris from a destroyed Vulture barely misses him. The wreckage spirals downwards, hundreds of feet, marking the path that Cassius will soon follow with contrails of black smoke. He looks up at me, his eyes glazed with fear. “Lucky…please…”

  My eyes meet his, burning with wet fire.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper to that other, long ago Cassius.

  Panic dawns on his face as he realizes what I’m about to do. “Please, Queran. You don’t have to choose this. I love you.”

  The bottom of his suit catches fire. He begins to wail. The flames consume him—

  His burning body morphs into Cass’s, who’s struggling to hold on to my grip, our sweaty fingers starting to slip.

  Once again, instead of Cassius, I see his other self, suffering in pain as he pleads with me to save his life. “Queran, it hurts…it hurts so much…if you ever loved me help me now…please…I’m begging you…”

  “Lucky!” Cassius cries. “I’m begging you. Don’t let me fall. I know I’ve hurt you. Have pity on me. Please.”

  His image blurs into that of the other young man, screaming in agony, half his body consumed by flames.

  I hesitated too long. Letting go now will be an act of mercy, I lie to myself.

  The second I release my grip, I realize it’s a mistake, but it’s too late. He falls away from me, engulfed in flames, letting loose an agonized wail.

  My fingers loosen on Cassius’s hand. After everything he’s done to me and those I love, all the hurt, the betrayals, I’ll finally have my revenge. I’ll finally be—

  Exactly what he’s become.

  “Let him go,” the older Queran, my future self, calls from behind me. “You can’t change who you are. You didn’t have a choice then. You don’t have a choice now.”

  “No.” My grip tightens on Cassius’s hands. “You’re wrong, Queran. There’s always a choice.”

  With everything I have left, I haul Cassius back onto what’s left of the platform, drag him across the narrow beam and back into the safety of the control room.

  We both collapse next to each other.

  Cassius looks at me, confused, angry, his eyes welling with tears. “You saved me. After everything I’ve done to you. That’s not possible. That’s not how things are supposed to go. Why?”

  I feel strangely at peace. “You gave me an apple once.”

  He stares at me and opens his mouth. But no words come.

  “I agree with Thorn,” Queran grumbles. “This is not how things are supposed to go.” His face is trembling with rage. “You are definitely an inferior copy, Boy, unworthy to carry on my legacy. I’ll make sure not to damage your vital organs when I terminate you.”

  Queran pulls out a hypodermic from a hidden compartment in his suit and lunges at me.

  “Lucky!” Cassius pushes me out of the way and takes the brunt of the injection in his throat.

  I pounce on Queran, tearing at his life support mechanisms, dislodging tubes. Fluids spray everywhere. Queran spins on his hydraulic mechanisms and shrieks, an awful, guttural sound. I dig my fingers into his suit and continue to claw, determined to destroy the darkness, the darkness that lives deep inside me, all the while knowing it will always be a part of who I am.

  Queran’s movements slow as his life functions dwindle. Exhausted, we both tumble to the ground.

  The only sounds are his rasping breaths and the pounding of my heart in my ears.

  I remove his protective helmet, gazing at that pale face, the diseased and pock-marked skin. A face that might have been me once and could still be.

  The Nexus missile launch will initiate in two minutes, the computerized voice announces.

  Queran smiles, foul fluid dripping from his lips. “You’ve lost. I wanted all of them to die, anyway.”

  Nodding, I grab the last of the cables feeding him oxygen and twist them, cutting off his supply.

  His eyes open wide, full of fear. “Why? You could have been so powerful. All that I am…is what you could have been…”

  Hot tears flow down my cheeks. “And I am all that you will never be.”

  The once great and feared Queran Embers’s eyes glaze over. His breathing stops. Forever.

  Rushing over to the computer console, I enter the codes that have now come back to me, consciously accessing Queran’s memories for what I swear will be the very last time.

  Nexus attack has been overridden, the computer announces. Missile launch aborted.

  With the remnants of humanity out of harm’s way, I locate all the files on the Sowing protocol and purge them completely from the system.

  My fingers tap the keyboard, issuing one final order.

  On the holos, all the facilities in the Nexus network appear, finally online once again. The Nexus facilities, long buried underground, begin to rise out of the earth at last.

  According to the readouts, hundreds of thousands of survivors are awakening from their endless slumber to face a brand new world.

  I can’t say it’s a better world than what they’ve left behind, but it’ll have to do.

  “Lucky…” Cass’s voice sounds weak.

  As I stagger back toward him, I glance at the holos.

  Practically all of the Thorn fleet has been either destroyed or boarded by the remnants of the resistance, working in tandem with the newly liberated Fleshers. The Parish is little more than smoking ruins and unrecognizable streets, littered with blood and bodies. It strikes me as odd that in war, where factions battle for supremacy, they all find equality in destruction and death.

  Above, resistance ships soar through the skies in formation, sounding victory beacons. There’s a growing rumbling, and at first, to my dulled senses, it sounds like an approaching storm. But then it becomes clearer. Cheering. Cheering from the survivors. I can hear them from below, the sound growing louder and louder. On the holos, they march en masse, hand in hand through the streets, a massive wall of human and machine, heading this way, toward the Citadel of Truth, the symbol of their oppression at the hands of the Establishment and Thorn Republic for so long.

  Somewhere in that crowd is my brother. And my remaining friends, Cage and Arrah. As I stagger toward Cassius, I try to activate the opticom, but can't get a signal. I rip off the glove and the earpiece, stuffing them in my pocket. I can only hope they are among the throng of survivors, liberated at last, free to start new lives and close the door on the darkness that’s shrouded them for their entire existence.

  Soon they’ll arrive here and find Cassius and me, the faces of tyranny.

  Exhaustion and pain take their toll. I drop to my knees and crawl the rest of the way to Cassius.

  When I touch his forehead, it’s already burning hot, his eyes bloodshot, lips cracked.

  He grips my hand. “I was wrong about you. I thought you were him. But your life, the people you love, have made you someone else. Someone better than Queran could ever be.”

  I shake my head. “But everything that made Queran the tyrant that he was…all that darkness lives inside of me. Who’s to say that one day—”

  “It won’t,” he whispers. “There’s the potential for darkness in every single one of us. We all decide if we’re going to turn away from it or embrace it. Today, you, Lucian Spark, made your choice.”

  “You were a good man, once, Cassius. I remember.”

  When he chuckles, blood bubbles at the corner of his lips. “Isn’t it ironic? When I discovered who we both used to be, I became obsessed with foiling you, with destroying everything that Queran Embers represented. And in the process, I became him, and you became the man I used to be.” He smiles, and reaches up a trembling hand to touch my cheek. “So maybe a part of me will live on in you after I’m gone.” His voice is raspy and quavers as he begins to sing.

  “Keep it hot’, Keep it searin,’

  The fire bright, the dark a’fearin,’

  Ole Stars will fall
, new Suns arise,

  The Torch holds strong, the season dies.”

  A mixture of foam and drool spews from his lips. I prop his head up and hold him tight. “Hang on Cassius. You’re going…to be fine.”

  “Who’s the liar now, Lucky?” His face contorts for a moment. “Even if I could survive this, I think the sound of that approaching mob has sealed my fate.” When he looks back up at me, I see desperation in his eyes. “You’ve been given a rare opportunity, Lucky. The chance to see your future self and change your fate. Not many people can say that.” He squeezes my hand tighter with both of his. “Don’t waste the opportunity.”

  Where once I felt rage and the desire for vengeance, all I feel for Cassius now is sorrow and pity.

  His breathing eases a tad. “You and Digory… were good together.”

  My heart feels like it’s breaking at the sound of Digory’s name, and I tense. Then Cass is convulsing, and I’m doing everything I can to hold him steady. “It’s all right. Don’t fight it.”

  “I know I can never ask you for…forgiveness…,” he whispers.

  There’s a loud crashing sound coming from the levels below. Then the sounds of distant gun shots, followed by a cacophony of footsteps and murmuring. I glance at the holos to see the crowds pouring into the Citadel, ripping down flags, knocking over monuments, and barreling through the Imps that have remained loyal to the end.

  They’re here. And they’re thirsty for the blood of the two people that enslaved them with deceit and treachery. There’s no escape.

  For either of us.

  I lean down and brush my lips against his. “Forgive me, Lisandro.”

  When he opens his mouth again, no sounds comes forth, but his eyes haunt me with gratitude.

  He pulls me close, clutching at me. “You have to…leave…now.”

  Pulling out a small, silver remote from his pocket, he activates it before I can stop him.

  The tile beneath me slides open, and I fall into a small duct hidden underneath the floor. I try to pull myself out but don’t have the strength. From where I’m crouched, I can still peer over the rim to see him staring at me.

  Cassius smiles, like he did in the old days, before the Trials. “I always… plan for… contingencies. My escape route…is now…yours.”

  “Why?” I barely have the strength to speak.

  “I can’t… afford to be… Lisandro…anymore. I’ve made…my choice…”

  Amazingly, he pulls himself to his feet, his limbs trembling as he fights to stay erect.

  The crowd bursts into the chamber, tearing through the furnishings, smashing the consoles.

  They’re heading in my direction, and I don’t care.

  “It’s me you want,” he calls to them. “Cassius Thorn.”

  They stop in their tracks and turn toward him. Then they attack, engulfing his entire body like a swarm of locusts.

  All I can see is blood oozing out from beneath the mob’s feet where Cass’s body should be, spreading across the marble.

  There was a time when the thought of seeing him lying there dead would have filled me with triumph and satisfaction. But that’s not who I am anymore. Now it just makes me sick and sad. I make out one of his arms sticking out from beneath the horde, bent unnaturally and outstretched toward me. The growing pool of dark blood reaches his fingers, still clutching the remote, and covers them as it continues to flow in my direction.

  It’s as if he’s offering me a bright, crimson gift, like that little boy so long ago, crouched outside my windowsill. Making sure I wasn’t frightened. Making sure I was safe.

  His fingers spasm and click the unit. Then the floor gives, and I drop into the darkness, squeezing my eyes shut, as the crowd’s roar fades into the distance.

  But all that matters is the boy and that apple.

  THIRTY-THREE

  “We have to smuggle him out of the city.”

  The familiar voice rouses me from sleep. It’s Cage. Someone shushes him, and he lowers his voice so I can’t make out the rest.

  I’m lying on a lumpy cot in a small, dingy room. I know this place. I was here not too long ago. With Digory. My old abandoned tenement in the Parish. It’s somehow survived the latest onslaught of war and remained relatively intact, despite the peeling plaster and haze of dust covering everything.

  Everything comes back to me in a rush. Queran. Aborting the missile strike against Nexus. Cassius and our final exchange before he faced the vengeance of the bloodthirsty mob.

  Cage and the others must have found me where Cass’s escape tunnel deposited me and spirited me away to this place. Rather than being grateful, all I can think about is Digory. I wish Cassius would have just left me in the tower to face my fate. But if Cage managed to survive, then Cole—

  When I try to raise myself to a sitting position, sharp pains fill my head like a rampaging electrical storm. The room blurs. I feel nauseous and double-over, dry heaving. Eventually the wave subsides but the dull throbbing persists. Even though my encounter with Queran is over, the scars of that confrontation remain just as strong as ever. Somehow, I know I’ll carry them with me the remainder of my life.

  Bracing myself against the cot, I lift up and make my way toward the door, ignoring the stiffness of my aching muscles. Taking a deep breath, I pull it open and hobble into the outer room.

  You’d think I was waving a gun. The conversation comes to a dead stop. Cage, Arrah, and Croakley are seated at a small, wooden table, staring at me. The only sound now is the crackling of flame in the small fireplace, which casts flickering shadows on their somber faces.

  I attempt a smile. “Do I talk in my sleep?”

  Cage rushes from the table and wraps me in a bear hug. “It’s so bloody good to see you moving around, Mate.”

  I kiss the warmth of his cheek. “I missed you, too.”

  Peering over Cage’s shoulder, I see Arrah smiling at me, her eyes moist. She rushes over. “You gave us quite the scare, Fifth Tier. Of course, we had to bail you out of trouble as always.”

  I wrap my arms around her, squeezing tightly. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

  She gives me a peck on the forehead. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve definitely been better. But seeing you guys sort of makes up for it.” I wink, more to alleviate their concern than a reflection of how I’m actually doing.

  Croakley nods at me. “We’re glad to have you back, Commander Spark.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” I turn back to Arrah and Cage. “Where’s Cole? Is he—?”

  Cage cracks a smile. “No worries, Mate. He’s out with an escort to gather some of the supplies the resistance is distributing to survivors. He’ll be around soon, and I’m sure quite happy to see you.”

  Looking around the dilapidated hovel, I take in the cracked windows, the missing floor tiles, the lack of lighting. “What are we doing here? Why haven’t we gone back to base?”

  An uncomfortable look passes between Croakley, Arrah, and Cage.

  Arrah forces a smile. “You first. Fill us in on what happened in that tower before we found you.”

  She and Cage hustle me into one of the unbroken chairs, and I proceed to tell them my story—at least most of it. There are some details that cut too deep to go into. Those I’ll take with me to my grave. But I share the gist, the appearance of Queran Embers, the missile strike on Nexus, inputting the codes and aborting the launch.

  “What about the bodies?” I ask when I’m finished. “Cassius and Queran. What did they do with…” I don’t have the stomach to finish the question.

  Croakley sighs. “Last I heard they were on exhibition where the Town Square once stood.” His eyes drop, and it’s clear he finds the implications as distasteful as I do.

  “The survivors needed a way to vent their anger,” Cage says.

  I shake my head, despite the pounding. “It’s wrong. Not even Cassius deserves to be desecrated after death.”

  Arrah takes hold of Croakley’s ha
nd across the table. “Surely the evidence corroborates his story. There would be no victory without Lucian. They have to be made to see that.”

  My eyes bounce between them. “What are you talking about? Tell me. I deserve to know what’s going on. I think I’ve earned it.”

  Cage wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Yes, you sure have, Mate.” He turns to Croakley. “Tell him.”

  Croakley closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, they’re filled with great sadness. “After Thorn revealed your…history…publically, you’ve become somewhat of a—”

  “I’m a pariah now,” I finish. “I figured as much. They don’t trust me because of my connection to Queran Embers. They’re suspicious of me, and I don’t blame them one bit. It’s going to take time and a lot of tact to make them understand the truth.”

  Cage pats my back. “It’s more than that, Mate. The officers loyal to Rios. They’ve spearheaded a movement against you.”

  My eyes narrow. “Movement? What kind of a movement?”

  Arrah’s shifts her gaze to me. “They’ve formed a tribunal.”

  Croakley scoffs. “Tribunal! Lynch mob is more like it.”

  Cage nods. “They’ve already started holding court, trying people for war crimes. Just a bloody formality because they’ve already been judged guilty before the procedure’s even begun.”

  “In all fairness,” Arrah says, “most of those that have already been convicted were indeed monsters.”

  “But Lucian isn’t,” Cage snaps. “He’s a hero, and none of us would even be here if it bloody weren’t for him.”

  I pull back from the table, taking it all in. “So am I supposed to assume the Resistance has deemed the Torch Keeper public enemy number one?” I grin. “That’s a twist.”

  “This is serious, Lucian.” Arrah rubs her eyes. “They’re searching for you. With Queran and Cassius dead, they need someone living to rest all the blame on. Who better than the spitting image of the tyrant who started this whole mess? They’re going to kill you, and we’re not going to just sit on our asses and let that happen.”